Page 31 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

“I didn’t even pack anything from my kitchen,” I added, staring at the heaped truck.

My talk with Mikhail went very smoothly. He was excited to find out I changed my mind. We ran into a hiccup when I said I would be keeping my old house, but he dropped it when I figured out I wouldn’t change my mind on that.

I would eventually have to do away with the house sometime in the future. Something tells me I might have to disappear for a bit after putting Mikhail away, but till then, I was holding on to the little bungalow.

“Is that everything, miss?” the truck driver asked.

“That’ll be all, thank you.” I smiled back, rubbing my arms as an odd feeling of chill settled into me.

This was the first time a project was going as far as me moving in with the suspect. Most of the men from before were usually horny deadbeats, had zero interest in a relationship, and only wanted to get their dick wet and blow their trumpets. The most I’ve had were a couple of trips around the world, never an arrangement this serious. Things with Mikhail had gone differently, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t scare me a bit.

“He’s asking if you’re ready.” Vivian nudged me gently, pulling me from my head and returning my attention to the truck driver, who was staring awkwardly at me. An embarrassed blush climbed to my cheeks. “Yeah, I’m ready. Sorry about that.”

The drive to Mikhail’s house was a quiet one, with my head resting on the window and eyes shut for the duration of the ride.

Vivian didn’t say a thing, and I appreciated her leaving me to my thoughts. I knew how important my job was and how it had helped a lot of people in the past, but that didn’t make it easier. It could get very tasking and draining at times.

“We’re here,” Peter announced, and I cracked my eyes open to be met with a completely different structure from the penthouse I was used to.

“Where’s this, Peter?” I asked, my voice heavy with confusion.

His perpetually monotonous voice flooded the car with his response. “Don asked us to bring you here. This is his home.”

Home. The sound echoed in my head. I had suspected the penthouse was not his permanent house with how empty it always looked, but when he never mentioned anything about a second house. I had concluded it must be in Russia.

I stepped out of the car, taking in the marble monstrosity in front of me. It looked like it was straight out of an old money movie, with two giant pillars in the front and a porch that wrapped around the whole house. From the stone fountain in front of the house to the line of trees that flagged the driveway and the display of exotic cars in the outdoor garage, everything looked sophisticated and well taken care of. Even the marble structure on the fountain looked like it was polished daily and water replaced every week. The familiar chill snuck up on me again, and I fought the urge to wrap my hands around my body. This was it. I was finally in Mikhail’s world.

“This way,” Peter called out, gesturing towards the entrance, and I followed, looking back to make sure Vivian was behind me.

I had years of training to thank for the poker face I maintained when we stepped into the house. I know I thought the outside of the house looked sophisticated, but it was nothing compared to the inside. I had expected modern furnishings with lots of glassware and a soft aesthetic, but this was breathtaking. The whole place was furnished with expensive wood, polished to the extent I could use one of the surfaces as a mirror. The central fireplace had a large TV hanging above it and a huge grandfather seat on the side with blankets carefully folded on top of it. To the side was the most beautiful staircase I’ve ever seen, with intricate carvings and decorations. I heard Vivian take in a soft gasp behind me, slowly taking in the house.

My awe was short-lived, and in its place was a growing feeling of disgust. I mentally scolded myself for being moderately impressed by the wealth that was amassed from the blood of children. I turned to ask Peter to take me to my room when a high-pitched gasp from the left stopped me. A gray-haired woman who looked to be in her late fifties stepped out of the kitchen with an apron wrapped around her, wearing the warmest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Hello,???????. Can I give you a hug?” she beamed at me with a heavy Russian accent, and I couldn’t find the will to refuse her. She exudes so much maternal love and softness. “When the?????????????told me he was bringing home a woman, I honestly didn’t believe him, but here you are, and you’re absolutely beautiful.” She must have noticed the confusion on my face and took a small step back.

“Pardon my over-excited self,” she continued, “I’m Maya, the housekeeper.”

My lips formed a small ‘o’ in realization. Mikhail never mentioned anything about a housekeeper, but then again, I didn’t know about this house till about ten minutes ago. The man really had a lot of layers. I mirrored the smile on her face. It was hard not to smile back at her as I introduced myself, “Hello Maya, I’m—”

“Arielle. I could tell when I saw your eyes,” she interrupted. “Mikhail has told me all about you.”

“And who might you be, honey?” She smiled at Viv like she just noticed her presence while I struggled to picture Mikhail sitting at a table and telling Maya all about me.

“Vivian, Ma’am,” she replied, looking lost.

“Nonsense,” Maya scoffed, giving Vivian a small smile. “Just call me Maya.”

I swear this woman was the human version of a diabetic cookie. So sweet and warm, I wondered how she got to work for Mikhail.

“Take the stairs. I prepared the room to the right for you. I know we women always want our little sanctuary, but Mikhail’s room is the last door to the left if you’d prefer his. Go freshen up. Dinner will be ready at six, and Mikhail will be home by five,” she rambled off, giving us another smile before making her way back to the kitchen.

“That was—” Vivian trailed off, lost for words.

“Interesting,” I finished off, still staring in the direction Maya went.

“On the bright side, you’d have a female company with you,” she smiled.

“I wouldn’t so be sure about that. For all we know she could be their posè for luring little kids in,” I replied, making my way up the stairs.

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